


Sherlock Holmes in the Dragon Age

by OtakuElf



Series: Biological Clock [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Parentlock, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John must do research.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of an Age

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunaMoth116](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMoth116/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Lunamoth116!

“What’s that?” Albert Tran asked, as he released Siger from his high chair. There was a good deal of orange tossed around the kitchen, as dinner tonight had been sausages and pureed carrots.

Sherlock Holmes looked up blankly for a moment. “Crime scene photos,” he answered absently.

Bert walked over after wiping up and examined the photographs spread over the kitchen table - so as to be out of reach of the toddler. “Wow. Someone was really into _Dragon Age_ , weren’t they?”

That provoked a sharp look. “There are dragons, certainly. You are referring to a cultural item. Is it a book, a movie, a comic, or a television show?”

“None of those,” Bert told him. “It’s a video game. Or video games. They are video games. I have them all downstairs. _Dragon Age: Origins_ , _Dragon Age: Awakening_ , _Dragon Age II_ , and _Dragon Age: Inquisition_.”

“This is a series of four video games?” Sherlock asked for clarification. He pulled several photos together showing posters, paintings, several tee shirts, and a number of sketches. There was an entire wall of what looked like a sitting room painted as though viewing a grey stone structure from a courtyard. “There are callouses on the fingers and thumb that are consistent with use of a video game controller.”

“Only three. _Awakening_ is downloadable content. That’s an add-on to the first game. Did a gamer get murdered?”

The look Sherlock gave Bert said, “Obvious”. Bert was beginning to read the little cues, the frozen grimace, the lifted eyebrow. 

“Hallo, Bert,” John said as he hung up his coat. He’d brought the cold air with him from outside. “Sherlock, I got the chicken wire. But I want to know what you’re going to use it for before I tell you where it is.”

“Mrs. Hudson’s back patio. Near what she hopelessly calls a ‘tree’.” Sherlock was shuffling through the photos again. “We found these as well.”

The photographs showed handwritten notes, addressed to “Alistair” and “Garrett”. There did not seem to be much to them except the mushiness of the writing. Sherlock told Bert, who was back in the kitchen cleaning up from Siger's supper, “The shirts quote an Alistair, and an Anders.”

“Alistair’s a character in _Dragon Age_. He’s a love interest, and a general all-around good guy,” Bert told the detective through the kitchen doorway. “Garrett is the player character, or one of the possibilities for _Dragon Age II_. Anders is a magic using character in both of those games. Depending on how you play him, he can be a good guy, or a bad guy.” He added, “Of course, they could be actual people’s names.”

“What’s going on?” John stepped over Siger playing with his teddy and bees to look over Bert’s shoulder.

“Bert has information on this murder victim,” Sherlock said as he typed frantically into his mobile, searching for data. “All three names are male. We have copies of the murder victim’s thumb drives. I haven’t looked at them as of yet,” he went on thoughtfully. 

“Wait,” John said. “You’re plugging that into my laptop?”

“Stop fussing, John,” the detective said, pulling up the first file. Bert came into the room to watch.

Three adult males stared at the screen. “It’s porn,” said Bert.

“Gay porn,” said John.

“Badly written gay porn,” commented Sherlock, “obviously written by a woman.”

“So,” John said slowly, “this game is a relationship type of game? Like those Japanese dating games?”

‘No!” Bert said quickly, before modifying, “Well, sort of. Your character can have relationships with people in the game. Not like this though. Alistair isn’t gay.”

Sherlock snorted, then covered it up with a tremendous fit of coughing. 

“Thank you very much, Sherlock. I see that you’ve maintained your adolescent sense of humor,” John growled.

“Oh, man,” Bert told them. “This is fanfiction. I just never read any of this before. I have enough to read with school, and the published books I’ve bought. I’ve heard that some of it can be good though. Unfortunately it’s got a bad rep because of stuff like this.”

Now Sherlock growled. Bert looked from the screen to the man. “What?”

John started laughing. “Fanfiction. Sherlock has fans. They’ve been writing stories about him. I think they call it Real Person Fiction. Anyway, they’ve decided that Sherlock is actually in love with Molly, and having an affair with her. Very detailed descriptions in the sex scenes. Mostly written by women. We keep finding stuff that people have sent to us. Or they send us the links. The lawyer says that we can’t really do anything about it unless it ascends into the realm of libel or slander.”

Sherlock called up another file. “Here are the letters addressed to Alistair and Garrett. They’re similar, but it’s not the same person writing them as the longer fictional pieces.”

“I expect there’s an entire community involved in this game,” John said as he stepped away to join Siger on the floor.

“Yes.” Sherlock was leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled, and off to examine things in his mind palace.

“Okay then,” Bert said. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” He made it as far as the door to the flat when Sherlock roused and called him back.

“It is necessary that we play this game. How long does it take to master it?”

Bert started to laugh. “Sure, okay. Whenever you like. I’d say after Siger and the girls go to bed tonight. I’ll bring my PlayStation 3 upstairs and we can set it up. As for mastering it, that will take some time. I can get you started anyway.”

John thanked Albert, who had the half day off for a date. Turning to Sherlock as they listened to Bert run down the stairs, he asked, “Master it? What do we know about video games?”

“Exactly, John. If we’re going to explore the community, check the forums and online sites, then we need to have an idea of what the game entails. And who Alistair and Garrett are, for a start.”


	2. The Game Is On.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting down to the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to my beta-reader, Lunamoth116.

Bert seemed touchy about letting them set up his PlayStation 3, a squat black box with a ponytail of wires out the back. John had offered to help, but had been turned down. Sherlock had not offered. He had started right in with messing about - at least until Bert very pointedly took over. The medical student worked quickly. His slender fingers were steady and exact.

Subsiding from his attempt to take over the setup, Sherlock made statements instead. “A girlfriend gave this to you. The interest in the game lasted longer than the relationship.”

Bert gave a nod as he hooked up the wireless controller. “Yeah, well. Why give a guy a game and then get mad when he plays it? I’ve dated gamer girls too. They can be a bit focused on stuff like this.”

John, reading the game box cover, raised an eyebrow, at which Bert admitted, “Of course, it would have been nice to spend some time with her. But it’s not a multiplayer game. Or wasn’t until the newest version - _Inquisition_ \- and that’s not the main game, it’s an add-on. And she just wasn’t that interesting.”

John thought back to conquests of his own that had not been interesting once he had attained them. It was not something he was particularly proud of, but then he’d run into the same in reverse from time to time. Although John Watson was not falsely modest, he was realistic about what those women had wanted in a partner. Looking over at the angular man seated on the floor beside him, he couldn’t help but think that would never happen again. Then he berated himself for getting soppy.

“Now -” Bert stood back, satisfied at the setup “- who wants to start?”

“Be my guest,” John said to Sherlock.

Sherlock was looking through a series of files on his mobile. “The victim preferred to play as a human female. Though it appears that she did try all aspects of the first game.”

John asked Bert, “What do you usually play?”

“Usually an elf,” Albert admitted. “And male. I can see Sherlock as a member of the Dalish.”

“Dalish?” John encouraged Bert to go on.

“Dalish,” Sherlock began before the boy got a chance. “A clan of migratory, indigenous people. They are fierce and defensive by nature. Characterized by ornate facial tattoos made with their own blood, slighter builds and features, and pointed ears.”

“Elves, huh?” John snorted. “Not like that’s a new and original idea.” He glanced toward the bookshelves and his own hardcover copies of Tolkien’s books.

“John should start,” Sherlock directed. “As a human noble. He can’t play a doctor, since that would require him being a magician.”

“Mage,” Bert corrected.

“A mage,” Sherlock went on. “And although there are references to magic in the letters and the pornography, we need a baseline that follows the victim’s main preference.”

Bert walked them through setting up a noble character, who would be named, simply, “John”. 

“Fighter or rogue?” John asked the room at large.

Bert asked curiously, “What did the victim play?”

“Rogue. Usually female, but we’ll go with male to start, since that’s John’s obvious first choice.” Sherlock was watching John as he made his design decisions.

John’s picks for the character were tall, slender, light-coloured eyes, and dark wavy hair. “Rogue fits better anyway. For a lot of reasons,” he told Bert.

Bert said, “Okay. Now the way you respond changes the way people react to your character.”

John began picking the most obnoxious and aggressive responses to each situation. Until he got to the young elven servant girl. “Oh. Is this one of those relationship possibilities you were talking about?” he asked Bert.

“Yeah,” Bert said, “but not for long. It’s just to give you experience. You don’t get to keep her or anything.”

Sherlock leaned forward from his seat on the floor next to John. “John,” he said, “seduce the male.”

“What? You can do that?” John looked at Bert.

“Of course you can. They’re in the same room. It’s the same opportunity; the algorithm must be set up to afford you the option to seduce either of them. I infer that you can only choose one though. Seduce whatever his name is.” Holmes said loftily.

“Okay,” John responded to the game’s questions. “There. What happens next?”

“You move on,” Bert told him, “and get experience so that you can move to the next bit.”

“Betrayal by the obvious villain, John,” Sherlock could not stop himself from pointing out.

“Yeah, got that. Tim Curry, right? He’s got to be the baddie.” John was busily moving through the castle, stealing left and right, interacting with the castle’s denizens.

“Cultural references,” muttered his tall, dark genius.

“You’ve never heard of Tim Curry?” Bert asked aghast.

“He’s never seen _Rocky Horror_. I refuse to watch _Clue_ with him. I think he watched _Hunt for Red October_ with me once, but I’m not certain how much he was paying attention.” John spared an amused glance at his partner.

Sherlock went away for a bit to his Mind Palace. “His voice. The doctor. On the Russian submarine,” he said finally.

John laughed.

Sherlock got up and fed their daughters while John continued playing. The former soldier seemed to enjoy the fighting, and by the time they got to Ostagar had worked out some tactical issues for his character. Bert pointed out bits and pieces for John to explore. Sherlock predicted outcomes to a variety of decisions, and was generally (though not always) correct. John’s obnoxious dark-haired character got quite a bit of male and female attention regardless. “Just like in real life,” John muttered.

The three of them got a fair way into the game before John called it a night. Not that he had work in the morning, but Siger would be up early. It was agreed that they would not run the game while the children were up. Bert had no classes until the new semester. He had fallen asleep on the sofa by that point. Ostensibly alone in the room, Sherlock sat down in John’s space and restarted the game.


	3. The Female Of The Species

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock observes women playing the game.
> 
> Not Mrs. Hudson, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lunamoth116 for betaing.
> 
> And also to the creators of Dragon Age - because I've gotten to meet such interesting characters and people through it.

“I’m not stupid,” Greg Lestrade told him. “I did realize that the RPG was part of this.”

The detective inspector was seated behind a desk piled high with paperwork, Siger currently on his lap examining a small yellow toy that had been sitting on the DI’s desk, partially obscured.

“You don’t play video games,” Sherlock observed.

“No, I don’t,” Greg admitted. “But Donovan does. At least, she’s played this one. She’s given me information on the game.”

Sherlock’s face lit up. John found that odd, considering they were speaking of Sally Donovan, Detective Sergeant and not one of Sherlock’s fans. “Donovan’s a woman,” Sherlock stated.

That earned him a funny look from both Greg and John. “Yeah?” the detective inspector said.

“I need to see her play the game,” Sherlock stated. “She can come over tonight after Siger is in bed.”

Gregory Lestrade sighed, rubbed his face, and sighed. “You can invite Sally - _invite_ her - to help you. You cannot demand, direct, or otherwise browbeat her into doing anything.”

“Browbeat Sergeant Donovan?” John was incredulous. “Can anyone actually force her to do anything at all?”

“I would not put blackmail past Sherlock Holmes,” Greg said aggressively.

Sherlock’s thoughtful look stopped them both. “Very well,” the detective said abruptly. “I will invite the sergeant to take part in our experiments.”

…

“Tell me again why we’re both here?” Sally Donovan asked Molly Hooper, whom she knew only vaguely through her work at the mortuary.

Molly pushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “Curiosity, mainly. I think,” she admitted.

They’d been fed with Chinese takeout, and treated very courteously. Now it was time to pay for their supper. “So _he_ -” Molly noticed that the sergeant had not used Sherlock’s name once since she had arrived, but listened as Sally went on “- wants to watch us play this video game? What does he get out of it?”

“Data!” Siger’s teddy began talking to Donovan in a squeaky voice. “We ah in need of data!”

The little boy was freshly bathed, and dressed in musical instrument footie pajamas. He was carrying - oddly, to Sally’s way of thinking - the bear, a plushy violin, and a rubber bee. She hadn’t seen him walk over to them.

“Really, Siger?” If Molly took this all in stride, then Sally Donovan could do no less. This was, after all, Greg’s godson. And Molly’s, apparently. “What type of data are we looking for?”

Neither Sally nor Molly could understand the garbled words that Siger uttered next. At least, though, it was not the bear speaking to them. Nor the violin. Nor the bee. John scooped his son up into a fierce hug. “Human nature,” he interpreted for the women before telling the toddler, “Say your goodnights, Siger.”

“Goodnight!” Siger shouted at them, then, “ _Baisers, père!_ ” as he raised his arms to the tall, dark, and irritating (to Donovan) detective.

Holmes took his son - and really, they did look quite alike except for the color of their hair - gave him a buss on the cheek, and then turned the boy back over to John Watson. Watson threw the shrieking kid over his shoulder and set off at a brisk pace for the stairs. They listened as he progressed up the wooden steps: “March! March! Up the wooden hill!” and could hear him putting the boy to bed through the monitor sitting on the bookcase behind them.

Holmes watched the pair until they were out of sight. “Alright then,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Shall we get started?”

“Are you going to explain why we’re here?” Molly asked, for which Donovan was grateful.

The detective sergeant had been in quite the discussion with Phil Anderson about all of this. It was, after all, Anderson who had gotten her to play the game. Phil had all of the games and was crazy about the world. He even played it on Facebook, which Donovan regarded with horror.

“Why you?” Anderson had asked over coffee and a turkey sandwich at lunchtime. “He hates you!”

“We have,” Sally told him, “a cordial détente, for all intents and purposes.” She didn’t comment that, if anything, Sherlock disliked Anderson even more than he hated her.

“Plus,” she added, “I think he wants to see how a woman would react to aspects of the game.”

“I can play a woman,” Anderson grumped into his lunch.

Sally started to laugh. “Phil,” she chided, “you play women so that your characters can have lesbian sex. It’s really not the same.”

“It’s just that I’m really trying to figure out what I missed. What he saw that I didn’t.” Anderson made a face. “You know that it’s going to start again. All that, ‘unsocial gamers going off the deep end’ crap that makes it a crime to have an imagination and play role-playing games. We’re not all unbalanced. Not even most of us. One looney murders a 'rival' and we all get tarred with the crazy brush.”

Sally gave the man a fond smile. Honestly, even though they were no longer having an affair, she did care for the man. “I’ll keep you up to date on what I learn, okay?” And that had to be enough.

Meanwhile, Holmes was telling them that he wanted to know how a woman would react to certain aspects of the game, as opposed to males. He’d interviewed the kid - Bert? - who was sitting in what was usually Watson’s chair, watching them with an extraordinarily blank face. Watson and Holmes had both played it. Holmes seemed remarkably informed on the characters. 

Actually, it was pretty fun playing the game and talking to Hooper about it. They ignored the men, and said what they thought about the characters, the love interests, and the art of the backgrounds. First Sally set up as a female elf from the city - a kickass rogue character who said what she thought, regardless of propriety. 

After playing that way for a while, Molly had her turn. She chose, after some coaching - because she’d never played this game before - to be a female human mage. Also quite kickass with entropy attacks.

It was late when Holmes indicated that he’d enough data for a while. John, who had been bringing them snacks and glasses of wine throughout the evening, thanked them for their willingness to help out. He got them their coats, like a gentleman, and walked them to the door.

They’d gotten to the door when Sherlock appeared at the top of the stairs. “Donovan,” he called.

“Yeah?” She peered up at from the dimly lit foyer.

“Take a look at these.” That was followed by a tied accordion file tossed down from above.

Molly peeked over the sergeant’s shoulder as she untied and opened the file and looked at photocopies of the letters from the crime scene. “What? These are…” Sally stopped as she read the words on the page, paged through to the second, then the third and fourth. How had Phil missed this? She went back and reread the letters more slowly. Looking up to the empty landing above, she dug out her mobile and placed a call. “Greg? Yeah, I just finished there. The letters? They weren’t written by a gamer. No. By someone who had never played the game at all. She thought the game characters were real people. That’s what the references are. Yeah. Right. Okay, I’ll take care of it in the morning. G’night!”

Molly was watching her face. “It’s the sister,” Sally said. “I’m betting on it. Not one of the gaming community. Whoever killed her tried to frame the gamers, but they had no idea that Alistair isn’t a real person. The person who wrote the letters thought he was one of the gamers.”

“Good catch,” said John as he opened the door for them.

“Hey,” Sally said to Molly as they went out onto the stoop. “This was fun. Would you like to do it again sometime? I have a PlayStation at my place. And a bunch of multiplayer games, if you’d like to get together some night.”

Molly smiled. “Yeah,” she said, “that would be nice.”


	4. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ends tied up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to beta-reader Lunamoth116!

Sherlock, costumed in his silken dressing gown, trousers rolled to the knee, and a red kerchief over his dark curling hair, was explaining to Siger, Terror of the High Seas and First Mate to the Dread Pirate Holmes, that they could not _both_ be Dread Pirates Holmes.

“I em Siger Hamish Holmes,” declared his son, who had a purple kerchief over his red curls that clashed dreadfully. He was freshly scrubbed, and wearing footie pajamas. The toddler was surrounded by not only his bear, but also his sisters’, his Lambkin, his violin, and his rubber bees. They also had the periodical blocks, and a pile of picture books with them for “treasure”.

“Yes,” Sherlock said gravely. He opened his mouth to go on, but his toddler interrupted him by waving a bee.

“You ah S’erlock Holmes.” Siger sounded like John Watson being overly patient.

“Yes,” his father replied, wondering where the discussion was going. This time he waited to hear Siger’s point.

“Then we ah pirate Holmeses.” There was no refuting such logic. Sherlock decided they would be a father and son pirate team.

Siger continued with an explanation that there was also a Dread Pirate Ursus, a Dread Pirate Lambkin, a Dread Pirate Vi’lin, and a whole host of Dread Pirate Bees. His sisters’ bears were not, apparently, Dread Pirates.

“And that,” John Watson commented from his observation point on the client’s chair, where he was busily scanning the paper for interesting tidbits for his partner, “is without either of you having seen _The Princess Bride_.”

“I am long-suffering,” Sherlock told his doctor, “and surrounded by a horde of Dread Pirate animals, and a Dread musical instrument, while being mocked by our unruly, if attractive, captive.”

“Oh, I’m your unruly captive, am I?” John smirked. “I think you will find me an exemplary prisoner. Content to read my newspaper, even while surrounded by dreadful pirates.”

“D’ead pirates, Daddy!” Siger told him.

John raised his eyebrows. “Shocking! Even worse!” he said to his son. Siger took his Daddy’s involvement in their play as his due, and began to pull Aunt Harry’s crocheted blanket from the back of their pirate ship.

The boxes from Christmas were long gone at this point, and Sherlock and Siger’s pirate ship had once been the sitting room sofa. Rosalind and Miranda were spending “tummy time” on the blanketed floor next to John’s chair. John could swear they were murmuring to each other as they lay there on their bellies. Sherlock had told Siger that his sisters could be mermaids, swimming free in the ocean.

Then Bert’s trainers could be heard pounding up the seventeen steps to 221B. Siger greeted the _au pair_ as “Dread Pirate Bert!” or its closest pronunciation.

“Avast!” said Bert, before running out of pirate speak. “Did you solve the gaming murder?” he asked the room at large.

“Sergeant Donovan has claim to the ‘collar’,” Sherlock said, while using the Union Jack pillow as an oar. “The suspect is in custody.”

“Ah, yes,” John told Bert. “She realized that several of the key pieces of evidence were written by someone who did not understand that Alistair and Garrett were from the game. Looking closely at the victim’s sister, they discovered a vast amount of credit card debt that she hoped to pay off with her sister’s life insurance, and that her alibi didn’t hold water. Knowing which person to look for, they narrowed down the CCTV footage, and although the sister didn’t appear on the video, they were able to talk to someone from the footage who had been in a position to see the entrance to the flat at the correct time. The sister was trying to shift the blame to this mysterious Alistair, not knowing it was a fictional character. Apparently the victim talked so much about him, and about Garrett and Anders, that the sister thought they were real people.”

“Huh.” Bert said thoughtfully. “I guess Sergeant Donovan is not such a fool after all.” He had, after all, not had the friendliest of interactions with the sergeant in the past.

“Not a complete idiot, no,” said Sherlock. Then he was forced to duck as John threw a pillow at his head. “See? Unruly prisoner!”

“Watch the language,” John warned from durance vile.

“Anyway, I have everything set up downstairs,” Bert said to John.

“Downstairs?” Sherlock cried in mock dismay. “You’re not going to the Crown and Feathers? This is your night for beer and trivia with Lestrade!”

John gave a disarming grin. “Oh, this is my night out with Lestrade, but tonight we’re going to drink beer, eat pizza, and play video games online with Bert down in 221C.”

“What? That dragon game?” Sherlock sounded outraged, and inaccurate, having deleted much of what he’d learned. “But the case is over!”

“Nope.” John popped his pronunciation. “John the Healer and Arcane Warrior is now retired, having destroyed the Archdemon and, having placed the bastard Alistair on the throne, has taken over leadership of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Besides, that’s not multiplayer until you reach the third game. I have all the downloadable content, _Dragon Age II_ , and _Inquisition_ to play before that.

“Tonight we’re running a first-person shooter.” John looked to Bert to see if he’d gotten the terminology correct.

“Starting as soon as the DI gets here,” Bert said with a nod. 

“I guess I’d best go down and learn how to handle the controls,” John suggested to Bert, as he stood, stretched, and then set about giving kisses to his children and partner. “Have a good night, Sherlock!”

The room was not silent after they had left - there were two babies, a toddler, and an adult pirate present - but John’s absence was noticeable. “We have been abandoned, Dread Pirate Holmes,” Sherlock said to his son.

“Yes, _père_.” Dread First Mate Holmes handed his father a bee to comfort him.

Captain Dread Pirate Holmes smiled. After all, John did need a hobby. He flourished the bee and told his son, “That’s fine. More treasure for us!”


End file.
